Of Candles, Books, and Bells
by EmceeSquare
Summary: Quaxo never really got along with the Rum Tum Tugger. But when something happens that sends the conjuring cat over the edge, he unleashes an ancient evil that puts the entire tribe in jeopardy. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Cats or any of the characters, nor do I own the rights to them. All of it belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
1. A Stormy Night

**Hey! EmceeSquare here!**

**Welcome to my very first story. I'm very excited to finally post it. Please note: the full story is still under construction. I will update it with new chapters as soon as they're done. ****A little back-story first: This is a story focused on Quaxo/Mr. Mistoffelees, which in my mind is the exact same cat. I perceive that Quaxo is his real name, while Mr. Mistoffelees is his stage name. Working off of this assumption, I came up with this.**

**Now that we got that out of the way, please enjoy it and tell me what you thought.**

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He ran on all fours, trying desperately to escape this….this….THING that was chasing him, through the alleys, vacant lots, and by-streets that have once been peaceful but have now been consumed with chaos. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was going to get him if he didn't run, fast and far away. How did this all start, he thought to himself. How did I get myself into this mess? Can I get out of it alive? What would the other members of the tribe think? What if…

He wasn't able to finish the thought, for he failed to see the pile of rubbish blocking his path. He tripped, and no sooner found himself sliding head first along the concrete, the jagged rocks and imperfections of the pavement scratching his skin, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake. Then he crashed headlong into a brick wall, each of his limbs folding up behind him like an accordion. He heard the sound of something breaking a moment before he felt a jarring sensation of pain rush through him. A jet of scarlet spewed from his nose all over the wall, splashing back in his face like a popped hydrant. He started to fade in and out of consciousness. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shard of glass that seemed to belong to a mirror long ago, now matted with dust. This is hardly the time for grooming, he thought, but I need to see just how bad a beating I took.

So, with all the strength he could muster from his shattered bones and bruised muscles, he pulled his way along the ground toward that one shard of glass. Paw over agonizing paw, inch after every scathing inch. At last, he reached the shard. Looking into it, he started to make out a truly ghastly image that made his fur stand on end. For staring back at him was a visage that – had its black-and-white features not been absolutely covered in blood and distorted in sheer anguish – seemed eerily similar to the one belonging to the cat they called Quaxo. He could not help but stare gape-jawed at this ghastly physiognomy; could not help but wonder what sort of vile creature could do this to him. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

What "it" actually was he couldn't make out – save for its feline figure and glowing red spheres that could only be interpreted as the figure's eyes. He also could see that this was no cat: rather a being of…pure darkness and evil. He saw it approach him with an ominous and threatening manner, floating on a cushion of pure air. Just then, the air around him reverberated with an ominous rumble, for the creature – could this be? – was talking to him. Moreover, it wasn't just its voice, low and filled with the anguishing cries of his Jellicle brothers and sisters, but what the voice said that scared him to the core.

"We meet again, Creator."

And with that, the spectral figure reached out a shadowy paw, raised it high above its head, and brought it down on the poor little cat that was waiting below: the cat that watched helplessly as the paw became closer, and closer, and closer…

Then Quaxo woke up with a start in his den.


	2. Never Was There Ever

Quaxo looked around the steamer trunk that he called home. Nothing. Silence. But he then noticed a feint yellow glow. He looked down to see that his paws were glittering with yellow sparks – the same sparks that emanate whenever he used his magic. How strange it was, then, that his fur should be glittering now, when he was dreaming. He pondered this for a while as the dull light slowly began to ebb, once again filling the trunk with darkness and solidarity, restoring a sense of tranquility in the young tuxedo cat – a feeling that was hard to come by nowadays, especially when the events of the previous night are taken into consideration.

That night, Quaxo decided to put on a magic show for the tribe. He thought he had made great strides in his magic – especially since Coricopat and Tantomile had taken him as their apprentice - and he wanted to show the whole tribe what he could do. He was so excited that he converted the Great Tire in the junkyard's center into a grand stage, complete with curtains, an old spotlight, and some Christmas lights that he found while rummaging through the junk. The night of the show, the whole tribe showed up – even the Jellicle leader, Old Deuteronomy himself – and they were awaiting young Quaxo's performance eagerly, none more than the Rum Tum Tugger.

Ever since Quaxo walked through the junkyard gate for the first time, he had been Tugger's personal punching bag. When he wasn't getting swarmed by love-struck, squealing kittens, playing around with his brother Munkustrap, or kissing up to Old Deuteronomy, Tugger could be seen tormenting poor little Quaxo without end. It was a no-brainer, therefore, that he would be interested into seeing how well (or how terribly, as it was) the pipsqueak performs under pressure. There he sat with his legs propped up on a pile of rubbish, waiting for the fur ball to show his head. Just then, two eyes peeked out from behind the curtain.

Quaxo timidly stepped out, almost seeming to tip-toe across the stage as if the whole tribe wasn't watching. He hoped he could slink across the Tire to the other side unnoticed when suddenly he was drowned in the light of the spotlight. There he was, on display for all to see. Nowhere to run or hide. So vulnerable, so scared. Here goes nothing, Quaxo thought. He then cleared his throat, and started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlecats…" he found himself squeaking like a little mouse. He tried again. "Ladies and gentlecats, you may all know me as Quaxo, but tonight, I am the magical Mister Mistoffeles!" To much his surprise, he found the last few words come sliding out of his mouth, ringing through the junkyard with unrivaled clarity. Good start, he thought. Then he continued. "Tonight, you shall see feats of magic never before seen or attempted by felinekind. Prepare to be astonished!"

With the finality of that statement, he lifted his left paw, showing the audience the sparks leaping from it. He then did the same with his right paw, sparking just like the left. He held both paws high above his head, and the sparks started to arc from one paw to the other. The air felt alive with electricity. Every cat was on the edge of their seats. They've never seen anything like this in their entire lives! Just as it was getting so good, the cat clapped his paws together, causing an explosion that threw him to the back of the stage. All the Jellicles gasped with horror. All but Tugger, who was rolling on the floor with laughter.


End file.
